


Godzilla vs Reptile Boy

by dustandroses



Series: Molesting the Xander [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: 16 Year Old Xander, AU, DubCon (under the influence of alcohol), Episode Related, Episode: s02e05 Reptile Boy, M/M, POV: Xander, PWP, Reptile Boy, School Hard fic, dubcon, questionable Adult/Minor Sex, sex fic, under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander follows Buffy to a fraternity house for a party, and finds out the hard way that frat boys are a lot like bullies.  Spike does his best to ride in to the rescue, but being evil and all, he's more concerned about molesting Xander than actually <i>saving</i> him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Godzilla vs Reptile Boy

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Notes:** Inspiration for this chapter taken from the Live Journal community Tamingthemuse prompts #420: Flail, #421: Passport, and #422: Pyrrhic Victory  
>  **Notes:** Xander's quote of _"Go, Go Godzilla"_ is from the song [Godzilla by Blue Oyster Cult.](http://youtu.be/T65rW_SIzg0)  
>  I think everyone who writes Spike/Xander needs to write at least one _School Hard_ fic, in which Spike accepts the 'gift' (Xander) that Angel offers him in the hallway of Sunnydale High School. This is mine. Or at least the second part of it.  
>  The stories in this loose series can all stand on their own.

Xander felt underdressed. He guessed that’s what he got for crashing a party at the Delta Zeta Kappa house. He’d only wanted to keep an eye on Buffy, and make sure she wasn’t falling for that stupid Tom guy’s line, but things never worked out the way he planned. He’d worn his khakis and a polo shirt, and smoothed his hair back – doing his best to look older than a high school junior. He wasn’t good with maturity, though. He was pretty sure that everyone could tell he didn’t belong.

He’d thought he was fitting in until he noticed that all the frat guys were in button-downs and ties, expensive jackets and sweaters. They looked all suave and sophisticated, and he felt like a fool. What was truly weird, though, was that all the pledges were in … corsets? Oh, wait. He was pretty sure that guy was wearing a _bustier_. Xander cringed. When he knew the difference between a corset and a bustier, it was obvious that he was spending way too much time with girls. 

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was either underdressed or _way_ overdressed. But there was no way he was going all the way home to change now, so he’d have to do his best to muddle though. He glanced over his shoulder. He’d felt like someone was watching him all night, but he hadn’t caught anyone at it yet. Shrugging it off, he took another look around. He hadn’t seen either Buffy or Cordelia, although Queen C’s car was in the parking lot, so he knew they were around somewhere. He’d just have to keep a low profile, and stay away from the frat boys as much as possible. 

Frat boys creeped Xander out. Maybe it was all the cross-dressing. Nothing against those who liked that kind of thing, but making guys who _didn’t_ like it wear women’s clothing was just odd. Frat guys reminded him of bullies, and he’d never liked bullies. If Larry ever managed to graduate from high school, he’d turn out to be a frat guy, Xander was sure of it. What a jerk.

A corseted pledge walked by with a tray of snacks, and Xander followed like a hound on the scent – were those ‘Pig in a Blankets’ wrapped in bacon? Ohhhh. Must eat now. He ran right into the refreshments table, and found the pot of gold at the rainbow’s end. Baby ham and cheese sandwiches, spicy meatballs, mozzarella sticks, Buffalo chicken bites, and macaroni and cheese balls! Xander was in heaven. With a mouth stuffed full of jalapeno poppers, he was unprepared for the two girls in slinky dresses who sidled up to him and smiled seductively. He turned around, to see who they were smiling at, and was surprised to realize it must be _him_. 

Eyes burning from a triple helping of jalapeno, Xander swallowed quickly, and smiled back nervously. He was on cute babe overload, which was confusing, considering all the dreams he’d had in the last week or so had starred a sexy, but extremely dangerous psychopath of the _male_ persuasion. It was enough to drive a boy to wonder about his sexuality, because those sexy psychopath dreams had more often than not lead to spontaneous hard-ons, and sticky sheets. 

All this sexual confusion of late left Xander in a bit of a quandary. There were two paths he could take at this point: he could suavely start a conversation on politics and the world at large – impressing the girls with his erudite charm, or he could beguile them with his usual, more traditional magnetism. He grabbed a couple of strangely shaped hor d’oeuvres from a passing pledge and showed them exactly what he was good for. 

“Godzilla's attacking downtown Tokyo!” he cried, his hands flailing wildly in the air. “Argh! Argh!” The girls tittered behind their drinks. Oh, yeah. He still had it.

When two guys grabbed his arms and dragged him off shouting, “New pledge, new pledge!” it took him a moment to realize what was going on. By the time he was wearing a size KK bra, a shiny silver skirt, and a blond wig, Xander knew he was in trouble.

He had always expected, due to his parent’s monolithic tolerance for liquor, that the Harris family genes would kick in the moment he drank his first glass of whiskey. He’d be able to drink like a fish for hours before the alcohol turned him into a sodden drunkard, weaving around the room and pinching girl’s bottoms, with a lampshade on his head. Maybe it was the circumstances, because being force-fed vodka right from the bottle, while everyone around him cheered and yelled ‘Chug it, chug it!’ or ‘Dance, pledge boy, dance!’ was not conducive to alcoholic tolerance. Or maybe it was the wig, because in Xander’s opinion, a lampshade had a certain…genderless quality about it that a shoulder-length blond wig simply could not pull off.

He kept trying to escape, but the frat boys had him penned in, and it was impossible to get away from them, especially the way his head was spinning. Finally, the one shaped like a small moose laughed in Xander’s face, and told him this was the last time he’d crash a Delta Zeta Kappa party. It was hard to remember why he was even there, now. Thoughts of an all night orgy ran though his head on heavy, moose hoofs, but he wasn’t fooled. No one would have invited Moosehead to an orgy, no matter how desperate they were. There was something he was supposed to be doing, and it wasn’t a desperate search for the nearest porcelain god he could be worshiping, although at the moment that was coming in a close second. 

He staggered dizzily, and in a moment of inspiration, covered his mouth, his eyes opened wide. Someone shouted, “He’s gonna blow!”, and the way cleared miraculously as he lurched in the direction of the nearest potted palm. Xander dropped to his knees, his head hung over the pot, and thanked the gods of gullible frat boys everywhere as he snuck a look around. It was difficult to tell what was happening from upsidedown, but eventually, Moosehead and his buddies lost interest in him, and started harassing the girls again. 

He scrambled to his feet, only to fall back to his knees, his head swimming. Yep, that vodka packed a _punch_. He contemplated trying again for an upright position, but with a queasy stomach, he decided that maybe the best way to stay under the radar was to keep on the down-low. Xander crawled around the edge of the room, avoiding the couples dancing and flirting above him. His goal was the patio doors he could vaguely see though his stringy, blond bangs and he held onto that goal by his teeth, chanting, “Go, Go, Godzilla!” over and over again until the words lost all meaning. 

If he hadn’t already been on his hands and knees, he probably would have fallen over the bunched up fabric of his khaki pants, which had obviously been tossed in the corner when he’d been stripped and handed a stuffed bra and a sparkly silver skirt. He threw them over his shoulder, and journeyed on. 

He could almost imagine someone calling his name, cheering him on, a siren-song of “C’mon, Xander, you can do it. Not much farther, don’t stop now,” in an accent that he almost recognized.

It was hard, though. The alcohol was spinning his brain like a top, and every inch he traveled was a struggle. Finally, the doors were there, right in front of him, and he pushed himself harder, scrambling for the exit before Moosehead could pull him back into the pit of hell. His head and shoulders were barely over the threshold before Xander’s head started to spin in the opposite direction. He was dragged out the door and thrown over someone’s shoulder, his head hanging upsidedown with a nice view of someone’s black-clad ass, tight jeans curving around well-muscled cheeks.

“Where’d those come from?” Xander giggled manfully. Yeah, vodka was definitely not his drink. “We going somewhere?” he slurred.

Tipped back over again, he landed on his back, staring up at the night sky. Spike’s face swam into view.

“Anywhere but the bleeding Hellmouth, mate. I’ve been trying to get you out of there for the last half hour. Whatever possessed you to sneak into a fraternity house? I couldn’t get inside to stop them without an invite.” 

“Spike!” Xander gasped. 

He’d been dreaming about Spike, and Xander was willing to admit, in the safety of his own mind, that he was one hell of a sexy vampire. That didn’t mean he had any interest in sharing breathing space with the guy. He flailed about, trying to force his arms and legs to cooperate, and help him get the hell out of there, but it was a lost cause. Especially while Spike was trying to untangle the mess of bra straps, khaki pants, and blond wig he was currently trapped in. 

“Hold still, dammit. I’m trying to get this crap off you before you strangle yourself with it.”

Xander stopped fighting. His head was spinning so badly, he was afraid he might fall off the neatly tended lawn if he wasn’t careful. 

“That’s more like it.” 

Spike worked carefully, unwinding the wig and the bra straps, carefully straightening him out, like he had plenty of practice at this kind of thing. He spoke softly, murmuring words of mayhem about what he’d do to these guys once he got his hands on them, and although the words were frightening if he concentrated on them, Spike wanted revenge on those bastards for the way they’d treated _Xander_ , and he kind of liked that idea. 

Xander sighed, and closed his eyes. Spike’s voice was soothing, and the way his head was spinning, it was difficult to remember why he’d been so upset. 

“Once I’ve got Dru’s cure settled, the three of us will get the hell out of this place,” Spike told him. “What do you say, Xander? New Orleans, maybe? The French Riviera, or Acapulco? You ever been to the East Coast? New York is a riot, you’d like it there.”

“What? New York?” Xander opened his eyes. He couldn’t understand why Spike would want _him_ to travel with them, unless they liked to pack their lunch. “I can’t go to the East Coast, Spike. I don’t have a passport!”

Spike gave him an annoyed look before tossing Xander’s bra over his shoulder. “I’ll give you that one, since you’re rat-arsed right now, but if you still think you need a passport for New York City when you’re _sober_ , we’re hiring you a tutor as soon as we hit somewhere civilized. I’m not going to spend eternity with someone who can’t tell the East Coast of North America from the Côte d'Azur.”

“Huh?” Xander leaned up on his elbows, but his head started spinning again, so he fell back to the ground, the grass tickling his ribs. “His ribs? Hey! Why am I naked?”

“Only partly naked,” Spike told him. “I haven’t managed to get you out of your skirt, yet.”

“I’m wearing a skirt?” He had a flash of memory - Moosehead pulling flashy silver fabric over his head as he laughed manically. “I’m wearing a skirt! Damn that Moose!”

“A moose dressed you in a skirt?” Spike laughed, shaking his head. “No more alcohol for you, mate.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiped Xander’s lips with it. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we? Lipstick doesn’t suit you.”

Xander shook his head. “Not my color,” he giggled, “but Godzilla liked it.”

“Godzilla, eh? Well, I like you better without any lipstick at all.” Spike stretched out beside Xander, up on one elbow, leaning over him as he ran one hand up and down the length of Xander’s body. “Mmmm. So warm.”

It felt good, and Xander pushed his chest out, arching into Spike’s hand. His body was hot and sweaty, and the fingers on his chest were cool, and comforting. Spike ran his thumb over one nipple, and Xander gasped. It felt like his nipple was directly connected to his groin as electricity sparked his cock to life.

“That’s right, love. You like that, don’t you?” Spike pulled on his nipple, squeezing it gently, and teasing Xander until he writhed, moaning softly.

He opened one eye to see Spike staring down at him. Spike – the vampire. He’d been dreaming about a vampire that bit him on the thigh and made him come harder than he’d ever come before. He just couldn’t figure out why Spike wanted _him_. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Spike’s fingers slid over to his other nipple, and Xander started to pant as he pinched it, rolling it between his fingers. “What? _This_?”

“No, I mean…” He paused, trying to sort out his thoughts. “Well, yeah. Why are you making me feel so _good_? Why do you want _me_? Giles says…”

“ _‘Giles says...’_ He’s that Watcher fellow isn’t he?” Spike asked. “He doesn’t know me. How can he know anything about me?” 

“But vamps are all alike,” Xander argued, fighting hard to focus on his words. It was difficult to do when Spike was pulling all these wonderful sensations out of his body. “You take what you want, charging in for the kill as soon as you drag yourself out of the grave.” 

“But I’m not like that at all, now am I? That’s because I’m older and wiser. I’m not a fledge full of bloodlust who can’t even control his demon. I’m a Master Vampire.” He leaned close, and whispered into Xander’s ear. “And I always get what I want.”

“And you want me?” That simply didn’t make any sense to Xander. Why would anyone want him?

“Oh yes, I do.”

Suddenly, Spike was kissing Xander, cool lips pressed against his, licking and tickling and making him gasp. Then Spike's tongue slipped inside, and Xander sucked on it, pulling it further into his mouth, opening wide as it explored. It felt so good – slick and rough and seductive. 

Seductive. _That’s_ the word. He was being seduced, and he didn’t understand why. He pulled his head back and asked, “But why…” Spike’s hand slipped down, and ran over his trembling stomach, down to brush against his hard-on, and he couldn’t help but moan. “Oh…why? Why aren’t you just taking what you want? You have the power…”

Spike laughed in his ear. “I could force you. I could take you against your will, and it would feel good – to me. But it would be a hollow victory at best, because you would hate me for it. Now there’s nothing wrong with a little bit of a fight in the right circumstances, but I want _you_ , not just any boy. I want you warm, and willing in my bed.”

“Bed?” Xander couldn’t help but laugh, because this felt a lot more like grass than it did a bed.

“I want _Xander_ ,” Spike insisted, “the boy who talks back to Angelus, even when he’s got you in a headlock.”

“Undead liar guy…” Xander murmured, remembering the night that Angel tried to give him to Spike.

“That’s what first attracted me to you – that _spirit_ that put Angelus in his place, even while he was threatening your life.”

But there was something wrong with Spike’s words, despite the way it felt as Spike slid his hand under the elastic of Xander’s skirt, and inside his boxers. “Then why wait until I’m drunk, or all groggy… under a mummy’s spell?”

“You remember that, do you?” Spike obviously hadn’t realized he would. He had his hand on Xander’s cock now, stroking it, and squeezing, and Xander bucked his hips up into Spike’s strong hand. 

“You bit me!” Xander accused him. “On my thigh.”

“And it felt _good_ , didn’t it?” 

Xander remembered the bite. The first time he’d touched it, he’d come spontaneously, his knees buckling under him as he sprayed his come all over the wall of the shower. That’s when he’d realized that it hadn’t been a dream.

“I want you, Xander Harris,” Spike whispered. “I want you willing. I want you writhing and squirming, with your arms around me, begging me for more. I want you like _this_ , and if I came to you without the liquor, without some assistance, you’d turn me down flat, and you’d never get to have _this_.”

Spike pulled down Xander’s shiny skirt, and took Xander’s hard-on into his mouth, sucking fiercely. 

Xander screamed as he came, curling around Spike’s head, his fingers digging into Spike’s shoulders. His head spun dizzily as he rocked, and Spike sucked his brains right out the end of his cock. He felt himself falling, but he didn’t remember landing. 

“Don’t get me drunk again,” he murmured, as darkness swept over him and his eyes slid closed. “Next time I want to remember everything.”

* * *

Xander’s head was swimming. He opened his eyes, gasping for breath, but all he could see was green. Narrowing his eyes as he focused, he realized that the green was a bush, and if he was right, that was probably grass tickling his back. He couldn’t figure out why he was lying half-nude under a bush in the middle of the night, but if he was outside, he really should move, because there were monsters in the dark. 

_Spike_. Oh, crap. He’d run into Spike again, and Spike had fondled his cock, and sucked him off – no wonder he felt all blissful and relaxed, that had been one heck of an blow-job! He looked around, but he couldn’t see Spike, even though it wasn’t nearly as dark as it should be, seeing that he was under a bush and all. He tried to sit up, but that was much harder than he’d thought it would be. He rolled over onto his front, and his stomach sent up flares to remind him that there had been a moose feeding him vodka earlier in the night, while Godzilla danced on top of his head. 

“I am never drinking again, as long as I live,” he swore to the grass.

Xander opened his eyes, hoping that might cut down on the roiling in his stomach, and realized one of those half-windows they used in basements was right in front of his face. The lights were on, and there were people moving around in monk’s robes. Monks robes? And Spike had thought the giant bra and sparkly skirt were over the top. 

“ _Holy smokes_!” Buffy, Cordelia, and some other girl were chained to the wall! 

He struggled to his knees, and shuffled his way out from under the bush. For some reason, one thigh hurt. He reached down, and pressed against the tender spot on the inside of his thigh, and almost came in his pants. Damn that Spike! He must have bitten Xander again. He was going to have to have a talk with that guy. _No biting without permission!_

He’d have to worry about that later. He had to get Buffy out of that basement first, and there’s no way he could take on the whole fraternity by himself. 

“Where is Godzilla when you need him?” he complained to his new favorite bush.

Fortunately, by the time he staggered around to the front of the Delta Zeta Kappa house, Giles was pulling into the driveway with Willow and Angel in tow. It was quite satisfying beating up that frat guy, but the real kicker was the giant snake in the basement. Buffy kicked the snot out of Reptile Boy, of course, and that was that. 

Hey, with Buffy around who needed Godzilla?


End file.
